


days like this

by olrazzzledazzzle



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Dan and Phil World Tour 2018: Interactive Introverts, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olrazzzledazzzle/pseuds/olrazzzledazzzle
Summary: days like this: a look into dan at his lowest point during their tour and how he overcomes (or just rather simply lives with) it





	days like this

**Author's Note:**

> ((tw: mental illness/depression/basic things u would expect to come with that overall sort of theme (no self harm or suicide or anything though), swearing))
> 
> i started this the day after my tour date (which was the 26th july) and just finished it. it’s very near to me and i’m very proud so i really hope you like it !!

Today, thus far, has been manageable. 

It’s most definitely been much worse; the smiles have been far faker, the compliments have sounded less genuine, but it wasn’t as bad as it could ever get (or has ever gotten). No, “bad”, on days like this, was /good/ compared to some of the other shit he could be feeling. Bad was better than nothing, it was better than /empty/, and he /could/ have completely fallen apart mid-meet and greet (like he definitely has before), so he’d overall call it a win. Even if it /sort of/ did feel like he was completely faking it to the people who’d paid hundreds upon hundreds of dollars just to see him, tell him how much he’s helped them with issues in their lives. Today, at least, he was a liar. A fraud.

When the last one was gone, a shorter girl with near-buzzed, rainbow hair and one of their old shirts on, Dan let out a sigh of relief. He loved their subscribers, he really did, but today just felt /off/, sort of as if when you wake up and your body just feels heavy, or when you’re on the verge of an illness and you feel stuffy, but you can’t exactly place your finger on it. It felt like that, except...he hadn’t /just/ woken up. He’d been up for /hours/. Dan’s mind was just a bit cloudy, a bit faster paced than usual. He ignored it all, hoped it’d all go away with the adrenaline from the show. 

(Spoiler alert: it wouldn’t.)

Dan gave the security guards small smiles and forced thank you’s so they knew he appreciated them taking care of the lineup and grabbed his half-empty bottle of water from the table he left it on previously. Phil was right behind him doing the same, laughing about something with one of the guards and following the younger to the table. 

Dan only half-heard Phil whining about how he took the wrong bottle with a P clearly written on it (“are you even paying attention? Grab your own!”), jokingly swapping the bottles between one another. He was always buzzed after these meet and greets, no matter how difficult they were for him to do thanks to his anxiety (even on a good day). It didn’t phase Dan with how bubbly Phil was. He hardly cared, honestly.

Hardly any of the interaction they had together registered in Dan’s head. He was much too focused on his racing thoughts that had gotten progressively worse since the beginning of the meet and greet. 

“Dan?” It sounded distant. “I’ve called your name /literally/ a billion times. Are you coming, or…?” A bit closer. Nodding slowly, Dan looked up. Phil was closer to him than he sounded previously. How long had he been standing here? His half-empty bottle of water was clutched very tightly in his left hand, and he suddenly felt like a stranger in his own body. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Dan managed to get out, though he didn’t know why it was so difficult to say. He’d been talking for hours. Maybe he was just tired today, maybe it wouldn’t be one of /those/ days. He was weakly hoping it wouldn’t be, anyways. “Coming.” And with just a few words muttered, Phil smiled and reached back to grab Dan’s free hand, pulling him along. 

By now, it was tradition to go out and find a nearby, local restaurant to dine at before the evening’s show started. They’d done it before almost every show up to date without fail, and Marianne had found a really lovely pasta restaurant the evening before after a bit of research, just a couple of hundred meters from the venue. Dan, especially, had voiced how he was very excited to go (local pasta was the best kind, after all) yesterday, but now… 

God, now though? He could hardly think about walking all the way there, nevermind eating garbage cheesy pasta that he’d probably had just slightly different variations of a thousand times before. His stomach churned at the thought. He wasn’t hungry in the slightest. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to keep food down, he felt so ill. 

Phil hadn’t let go of Dan’s hand until they got to the entrance of the venue, preparing to leave, dropping it and prompting him to follow. “You’re feeling alright, yeah? You’ve been a bit quiet.” 

Dan shrugged. He wasn’t feeling alright at all, but he didn’t want to ruin dinner for Phil and God knows if he mentioned it now, supper would be called off completely. “I’m fine. Let’s go?” 

“C’mon, guys!” Dan heard distantly, and a parade of padding feet behind him. This was way too much and the show hadn’t even started yet.

The walk, although short, felt like hell. It was hot out and Dan was sweating and everyone was chattering amongst one another; the amount of people were making Dan’s head spin and he felt as if he could give up at any moment now. 

How was he supposed to deal with a crowd of /thousands/ of people tonight? His stomach churned with anxiety at the mere thought. He hasn’t had an episode like this on tour thus far, though it’s only been the European leg (which went fine — Dan figures it’s because they were still fairly close to home) and couple US dates, so it’s not like it wasn’t bound to happen at some point. Dan just wasn’t prepared — at all — to be hit so suddenly and so hard with these shit feelings. /Usually/ it wasn’t this bad. 

The only thing keeping him grounded at this point was Phil’s fingers interlaced with his own, even if Phil himself was beginning to frustrate him just as much as everyone else simply by chatting; it’s not like depression /picks and chooses/ who to be annoyed with. As special as Phil was, he wasn’t /that/ special. He wasn’t a saving grace. 

Dan had no choice but to be his own. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice made out a faint, /but are you even strong enough to save yourself?/ and he shut his eyes promptly, stopping in place. Phil, in turn, stopped right next to Dan, looking over at him, mildly concerned. “Y’alright?” 

The others stopped around the two of them, each also just as confused as Phil. Nobody had any idea why Dan just.../stopped/. At least the constant chattering quit, if only for a few seconds. 

Dan’s chest heaved slightly at all of the attention, looking around the group in a mild panic. When he was like this, when his head decided to act all fucked up, he felt the utmost shame and sadness about his mental illness, and he despised the fact that people could just /assume/ what was happening when he was acting even slightly off. That’s the downside about coming out publicly with something like this. He was /sure/ everyone knew already, and he couldn’t help the shiver of shame he felt wash across his skin. He felt so exposed, so bare, so /dirty/. Words couldn’t describe Dan’s mortification no matter how hard he tried. 

“I’m fine, s’just really hot out, prob’ly dehydrated, sorry.” Dan waved his free hand, chuckling halfheartedly so to not worry everyone. The majority of the group nodded along, continuing to walk towards the restaurant they were quickly approaching. 

Phil wasn’t nearly as easy to convince, though. As the rest left, Phil pulled Dan along, though slower so to be able to talk in private. “Are you alright, for real? Are you actually feeling sick, or is something else wrong?” 

Shrugging once again, Dan hardly knew what to say. On one hand, he really didn’t like ruining things for Phil, especially because of this, and as many times and Phil has assured him that it’s fine and told him that it’s not his fault, he still felt guilty. They’ve talked over this at least a million times, yet he never knew what was to believe during days like these. Maybe /everything/ was all a fucking lie. 

On the other hand, he knows better than to push Phil away. He’s done it way, /way/ too many times than what’s healthy and he /knows/ it never helps. On a good day, on one where he can think clearly, he knows he’s doing everything he can to help himself and that this depression isn’t his fault. He’s trying his best and this is bound to happen sometimes, so why push someone away who cares so much, who’s only trying to help? 

“I’ll be alright.” 

Would he, though?  
—  
Dan hardly finished a handful worth of small bites of his pasta, hadn’t touched the toast they served him, nor did he finish even half of his glass of water, no matter how much Phil prompted him to drink because he earlier claimed he was likely dehydrated. That was /not/ a good thing. 

Thanks to therapy, Dan’s learnt better than to deprive himself of basic self-care tasks like eating and staying hydrated because he felt terrible or felt like he didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t /help/ it, not today. Maybe it was the heat or maybe it’s because this all came on /really/ strong and much too fast. 

Whatever it was, it worried Phil, above anyone else. Dan hardly spoke all of ten words the whole time and he usually loved coming to these meals every night. It never dawned on Phil it could’ve been because of Dan’s depression — he’d gotten so much better, after all, he was getting /so/ much better with talking through it instead of pushing any help away and bottling everything up. He just wasn’t used to looking out for these sort of things anymore, though clearly he should be. 

Near the end of the meal when the waitress came, Phil requested a styrofoam container to take the rest (more like the majority) of Dan’s pasta in so he could eat later. Maybe he really was just ill and dehydrated, maybe had a migraine or something along those lines. It happened to the best of people, especially him himself. 

Gently scraping the rest of Dan’s pasta and toast from the plate into the container, he scratched a D on the top of the white box, shutting it closed, grinning as he pushed it in front of Dan. “You can eat this later when you feel better, alright? You’re positive you’ve had enough to eat for now? Just asking, ‘cause I don’t want you fainting on stage or anything,” whispered Phil, looking over at his boyfriend, concern clear and evident in his eyes. What has Dan done? 

Dan only nodded, letting out a small sigh. He felt awful for making Phil worry so much; he /needed/ Dan during these shows, and all Dan was doing was making it harder on him. 

He was mentally kicking himself for every word he /didn’t/ say, every reassurance he /didn’t/ give to the one who arguably needed it most. 

“Okay. Let’s go,” he said, patting Dan’s thigh, smiling. “We have a bomb-ass show to put on.” 

With that, Dan smiled ever-so-slightly.  
—  
The stage was hard to navigate at the best of times, and it was practically impossible for Dan to navigate while not even in his right mindset. There were obstacles littering the floor all the time and backstage- God, it was a /mess/ every single show. Dan and Phil weren’t a very clean duo of people on a good day, but when Dan really didn't seem to care about /anything/, it was near-impossible for him to find the energy to put his stuff away so they’ve actually got places to /move/. 

Phil was somewhere off-back getting changed into his stage attire, chattering again with the crew. Dan had been sat in his changing room alone for the good chunk of the time they’d been at the venue up to now. He didn’t know how he’d do the show with the bone-deep exhaustion he was currently feeling. The idea of having to crack jokes and run around on stage in such a short amount of time while currently being near-unable to stand still on two feet? That was absurd. 

Eventually, Dan was forced to pull his head out of his hands by Phil knocking on the door and reminding him they needed to be ready in fifteen minutes. Had he been sitting like this for almost half an hour already? How had he wasted so much time, wallowing in this numbness? 

He really needed to get his shit together. And soon, too. He had a commitment to thousands of subscribers tonight and he couldn’t bear the feeling of letting them down like he had himself. 

Dan stood, his legs stiff. He wandered around aimlessly in search for his white shirt and black jeans, finding them sat folded on a shelf in his dressing room. It felt like the change of clothes — something so simple — had taken all of his strength he once had in his body and crushed it entirely. 

It was already almost time to get on stage when he’d finished. 

Dan emerged from his dressing room, hoping Phil wouldn’t be too far away. Thankfully he wasn’t; Phil spotted his boyfriend as soon as he came from his changing room, a small glint in his eyes. “Feeling better?” 

By now, most of the crew was too busy focusing on their specific jobs to notice the bags under Dan’s eyes or how he was slouching just a /bit/ more than he usually did. “I don’t know.”

Phil’s eyebrows furrowed curiously at Dan’s words. “What do you mean? Are you feeling sick?”

“I’m not bloody /ill/, Phil,” Dan suddenly spat, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “I just want to get this over with, alright?” His voice was much quieter this time. 

Swallowing nervously, Phil nodded. He didn’t know why Dan had just suddenly lost it on Phil considering all he was trying to do was help, but Phil couldn’t now concentrate on what just happened. They had a show to put on. “Alright, alright, let’s go.”

As Dan trudged behind Phil to get to the stage, he tripped on something and fell to the ground - it was just a mere box that was likely misplaced, but the energy it took to fall more or less made Dan burst into a fit of tears. Right before the fucking show. The strange thing is that this is - something that was so stupid to cry over - not something Dan would usually do unless he was more irritable than usual.

That...was an understatement. 

Phil turned around and widened his eyes as soon as he realized what had happened. When Dan had bouts of depression like he currently was, red flag number one was most definitely irritability, which Dan clearly had. Spacing out, being quiet, spazzing on Phil…

How hadn’t he realized this sooner?! 

Crouching down to be face to face with Dan who was lying on the ground, tears welling in his eyes, Phil was at a complete loss for what to do. They couldn’t just go on stage and have Dan looking like a mess, that’s basically a bloody dead giveaway and Dan would rather not do the show at all if that was the only other possible outcome. 

“Dan,” Phil murmured, reaching a slow, gentle hand to Dan’s chin. Usually they weren’t much for PDA like this, but Phil sort of felt this could be an exception. “Dan, Bear, talk to me, /please/. We /absolutely/ won’t be doing this show if you have any doubt in your mind that you can’t, alright? You need to help me out here.”

Dan heard Phil’s voice anxiously wavering as he spoke, and Dan mentally kicked himself for being such a dick to Phil when this was hard enough for him to do even with a mentally-able Dan by his side. Tears streamed down his face as he softly hiccupped, chin trembling. It wasn’t even that he got particularly /injured/ by the fall, but it happening was really the cherry on top that made his dam of emotions break completely loose. “I need to do this show. I :want/ to do it.” 

In a way, he did want to do the show. He felt this strange tug in his chest that he knew he’d only feel worse about himself if he cancelled the show merely /ten minutes/ before they were set to perform - he couldn’t imagine the disappointment everyone in the crowd (minus some displeased parents, probably) would feel towards him. That was the only thing egging him on at this point. 

“You need to make sure you’re physically and mentally /able/ to first, Dan,” Phil said, running his thumb over Dan’s cheek to rid it of his tears. “We’re not performing if you can’t.”

“Stop treating me like this, bloody hell, I’m not /broken/! I can do it!”  
—  
Needless to say, the show tonight was...rough. 

Dan didn’t know you could blatantly /lie/ to such a big group of people at once before. 

The laughs, the jokes, the smiles...they’d never felt faker.  
—  
Sometimes Dan swore that the entire world was against him. It wasn’t often he thought like this, not anymore, but nowadays, there was a certain, bitter unfamiliarity of never knowing which state you’re in during the dead hours of the night or not knowing absolutely anybody in the crowds they were performing for that never ceased to make Dan squirm with anxiety and dread. 

The road was dreary, dark. Long. It always was. The drives were bleak, especially the really far ones, and full comfortability was always just a bit too far away to grasp onto. 

As long as he could remember, Dan’s had issues with conforming to the world around him and getting used to things that weren’t really normal to get used to (he was a YouTuber with six million subscribers, after all), so to say these sorts of travels weren’t easy and were more mind-numbingly exhausting was an understatement. 

Most people didn’t go on tour for months and /months/ on end. 

Most people didn’t have crowds of thousands of people screaming their name every single night.

And it wasn’t a bad thing, don’t get him wrong, he was grateful, /so/ incredibly grateful for what he had, but it was long, horrible nights like this that never failed to have Dan’s fucked up head just constantly spiralling out of control. Sometimes it was hard to stay grateful like he knew he should. 

The man resting in the bed next to Dan shifted slightly which, in turn, brought him back to real life. He really needed that right now. 

Phil, similarly, couldn’t get to sleep for the life of him. The two of them were very, very different people who cooperated beautifully together, but one of their differences (that often bothered one more than the other) was Phil’s incapability to sleep. As Dan lays asleep in their bed, Phil’s constantly tossing and turning and disrupting the other’s much needed rest. 

Something told Phil to try and keep as still as possible tonight, especially after the mess (more like disaster) of a show they’d put on just hours before. 

Plus, judging by Dan’s shallow breathing, Phil noticed he was probably still awake, too. That or he was having an incredibly strange dream (that, of which, Phil probably wouldn’t want to know about, he was sure). 

He shifted again, and Dan’s heart raced. He knew what all of today and now was leading to, he knew deep down how he’d feel tomorrow when he woke up. And he knew it’d be worse than today. 

He knew it all too goddamn well how the next morning would be, but maybe if he just stayed up, didn’t sleep even a bit, it wouldn’t come. Maybe it’d be a one-off kind of thing this time. 

That was just his shitty head talking. Realistically, Dan normally knew that was a terrible idea, as did Phil, staying up to not face your issues, but now...it seemed like the only way out that wouldn’t tire him more than he already was. 

Maybe this tour was just a bad idea. Honestly, it’s days like this that make Dan wonder if he’d even be able to make it through the whole thing without burning out completely. He didn’t remember it being this hard, not even a little bit, and he wasn’t even out with his depression during the last tour they did. 

How did it get /worse/ like this? Maybe he’s made less progress than he thought, because bloody /fucking/ hell, despite the constant love and support from the fans, the team, even from Phil, he didn’t remember feeling so exhausted, so numb, so /alone/. 

Once more, Phil turned over and wrapped an arm around Dan’s waist. Phil pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the nape of Dan’s neck, but Dan didn’t respond. He was too tired to care. Another one. No response. “Are you asleep?” 

Phil bit his lip, sighing softly. He knew Dan better than Dan knew himself sometimes.

Dan couldn’t find energy within his body to respond to Phil’s question, so he didn’t. He left the air completely undisturbed, and though he appreciated the romantic gestures, it was most definitely /not/ what he needed right now. 

He half wanted to know what the time was, because judging by the darkness outside the small window of their room, it was sometime during the middle of the night, though he didn’t know when. Hopefully not too late. Hopefully he’d still have time to get better before tomorrow. 

He didn’t. 

“Alright. Goodnight. Tomorrow...it’ll be better. Promise.” 

Dan eventually drifted off into unconsciousness, though he hadn’t an idea how. Everything hurt a bit too much.  
—  
The next morning came very slow. Or maybe it really came faster than Dan would’ve liked it to, because he swore to God opening his eyes was more difficult than it had ever felt before. They felt like lead. 

Phil wasn’t beside him and his heart dropped in his chest. 

When had he woken up? When- how did he even fall asleep?! He’d only been up a few minutes tops and his brain was already racing. It was exhausting. It was /somehow/ even worse than yesterday — already. 

Staring up at the ceiling above him, Dan could swear the colour of the bunks drained overnight. Or maybe it was his eyes, maybe he just couldn’t process colour anymore. 

A small voice, a dull, delicate one, in the back of his mind, quietly told Dan that this wouldn’t last forever, that someday he’d see astonishing colour again. Someday soon. 

But he didn’t believe it, opting rather to push that voice away and wallow in the fact that he just /knew/ he wouldn’t be able to make it through the day without completely fucking breaking down into absolutely nothing. Again. 

Was it possible to feel your soul heavy, damaged, even? That’s quite possibly the only description Dan could give you...that’s if he could actually muster up  
speaking, of course. 

God, maybe he was just being dramatic like he always was. Death this, death that. Most people weren’t as fucked up in the head as him. Why did he, of all people, have to be this way? He had so many people to tend to but at this rate, he’d just be letting everybody down. 

Today already felt much, much worse than yesterday. The man stirred around in bed for a few minutes, letting out soft groans of pain for no real reason aside from wanting to hear something, /anything/. All he could hear was that faint buzzing, droning on and on in his ears that made him only a bit pissed off at the best of times. Maybe it was a cry for help even if he knew nobody was around to hear him. 

They were parked outside the hotel and Phil was nowhere to be seen. Dan figured Phil had probably gone inside to check in and maybe grab a shower, but that meant he wasn’t here. Phil was always so considerate — he’d let Dan sleep instead of waking him up. Even if he didn’t know, Dan was eternally thanking him for the extra sleep. As much as he’d liked to have gotten up and left with him, he didn’t know if his body would’ve let him do that without collapsing. 

Everything felt heavy, as if he was being held down by weights all across his body. Reaching out to grab his phone was difficult enough, even though he knew he needed to get up. He checked it — it was only nine in the morning — and let it fall through his fingers to the bed. 

Just a few more seconds, he promised himself, and he’d be ready to get up to start their day. 

He kept telling himself that...until he’d been lying completely motionless for over a half hour, his bones aching and begging to be stretched, mind more numb than it was when he first woke. 

He ignored it all. 

They didn’t have a show today, /thank God/, so getting up wasn’t really even necessary, was it? They didn’t /need/ to sightsee, they’ve probably been to this city before (even though Dan hadn’t a single clue where they actually were) and they could easily come back (that is, /if/ he ever felt better). It’s not like they were, well, on the verge of bankruptcy or anything. 

In the back of his mind, he knew that the if /would/ be when, but he didn’t bother to care. At this point, did anything matter anymore? 

It was a flawless plan, really, aside from the fact that if Dan told Phil how shit he was suddenly feeling, Phil would just...nod, throw a sad yet encouraging smile on his face. He’d help, he’d do all he possibly could to make Dan feel better like he always did, but deep down, Dan knew he’d be disappointed. Not in Dan, of course not, but Dan knew how much Phil hated staying in the bus for any amount of time more than necessary and how much he loved to go explore while /touring the world/. 

It all just made him feel even worse, as if that were even possible. Guilt added onto all of this was genuine /hell/, and Dan didn’t want to /think/ anymore. Not about the tour, not about Phil, not about trying (and failing every /single/ time) to convince himself to get up. 

He just wanted to sleep everything away as if that actually ever helped him.  
—  
Dan had fallen asleep for another hour or so before he woke up with pain searing everywhere. It wasn’t anything serious, but not eating for hours and hours mixed with not leaving your small, cramped bed (plus being over six feet tall) would surely do it. 

He couldn’t really handle how his muscles ached with such passion, so he got up and out of the bunk (despite how much his mind didn’t want him to). 

After he stood up, he nearly collapsed as if forgetting how to properly function and stand. 

God, this happens way too much- it’s happened way too many times, Dan acting like /this/, and forcing Phil to pick up the pieces of an empty shell that once was someone able to laugh and cry and /feel/. Dan just wished he could change. Change for the better — for his sake, for /Phil’s/. 

Phil didn’t deserve to have to pick up Dan after every time he’d been knocked down. Dan couldn’t keep doing this to someone who he cared so damn much for - surely Phil was exhausted with him by now. 

Speaking of Phil, he was sat in the den of the bus, anxiously awaiting Dan’s awakening. He knew they needed to talk, they /desperately/ needed to talk, but he wouldn’t make Dan unless he wanted to, and at this rate…

That could definitely be a talk that’d be saved for at least a week from now. 

When Phil heard shuffling come from Dan’s bunk, his head shot up from the relaxed position he’d previously been in. “Dan?” 

Dan let out a small groan in response, standing in the middle of the hall, facing Phil properly. He was a /mess/ if Phil’s ever seen one. His hair was sticking out everywhere, his clothes were probably from the night before, he likely hadn’t showered since at /least/ two or three days ago. Oh God, when was the last time he’d brushed his teeth, had a drink, used the bathroom?! 

Phil feared for the worst considering he knew Dan always neglected this kind of stuff. Even on good days, little things managed to consistently slip his mind despite how important they were. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Phil said, trying to keep his voice light. “It’s already middle of the afternoon.” 

Dan sighed. “Yeah.” 

“You should have a shower,” Phil said, smiling nervously. “Not to say you don’t look /great/, but…”

That elicited a small laugh out of Dan, which made Phil’s heart swell with happiness. At least Dan could still laugh. “Asshole.” 

“How ‘bout we go into the hotel and shower? Or do you want to in here?”

“Here’s fine,” Dan said, rubbing his face with his hands. As his hands felt his hair, he internally cringed at how greasy it felt. How long had it actually been since he’d showered? “I’ll be back.” 

It was quite the process, but he did it eventually. He felt rather lightheaded multiple times throughout the shower but figured it could’ve been for a multitude of reasons — lack of calories, tiredness, having the heat probably way too hot as to just feel /something/… 

When Dan got dressed (in the same, old clothes he’d been wearing that were definitely smelly and dirty but Dan didn’t care even a bit) and left the bathroom, Phil stood up to see him. He walked slowly, cautiously. Dan was always so unpredictable during days like this. 

Phil gestured to Dan by opening his arms, in which Dan simply responded by walking forward a few steps. His hair was sopping wet but Phil hardly cared at this point. Right now, it was good that Dan was simply able to hug him. The forlorn look on Dan’s face seemed like he was thinking distantly, like he had something to say but didn’t want to- or rather, didn’t know /how:. 

“I really hope you know I want to get better,” said Dan suddenly as Phil leaned against his shoulder. “I really am /trying/ and I know it doesn't look like it but I /am/ and you have no idea how exhausting it is being a victim of your own head. It’s terrifying and I have no bloody fucking idea how to deal with it at this point. God knows I would’ve if I could.” 

Phil’s heart ached. He hated that Dan felt this way, felt like he was cursed with this illness. “I know you are. I’m really glad you’re trying to get better.” 

“I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. And snapping at you last night.” Every word Dan uttered made his head go dizzy in Phil’s embrace. He needed to apologize, that much he knew, and he figured out in the shower that now rather than later was probably the best option to go with. “I don’t even know what I’m saying, I just..”

“I know,” Phil said softly, briefly pulling Dan out of his arms. “It wasn’t you talking. I accept your apology.” 

Dan nodded. 

Phil held Dan’s shoulders, staring him down. “We need to do something today. Something to help.” 

Groaning, Dan shook his head. “I don’t need you to save me, Phil. I’ve already showered. I’m fine.”

“Dan, I hope you know I’m not trying to save you, alright, or /fix/ you, because you very well know that’s up to you to do for yourself. I’m just here for when you need me most and that’s right now, alright? Like, Heaven forbid I want to see you get better? Please, at least say you’ll try to cooperate with me when I’m trying to help? I don’t care what you think, or what  
I know you want to say; you’re /not/ alone. I /am/ here for you. No matter what.”  
—  
It was particularly bad right now. Dan was in the hotel alone for hours, lying lifelessly on the bed. Phil knew something needed to happen, and it needed to happen soon.

“Okay, okay. We’ll get through this, yeah? Like we always do?” Phil assured, nodding, /so/ hopeful Dan would nod along as well. 

He did. 

It was...a start. 

“Okay. Tell me everything that hurts, alright? We’ll make a list of things we need to do and we’ll do them, little by little, does that sound good?” Phil scrambled to get the notepad and pen from the desk in the hotel, quickly bringing it back to Dan. “We’ve done this before, right? Just one thing at a time.” 

“Head.” Dan whispered, hardly audible. 

Phil nodded, writing it down on the pad of paper. “What do you think we can do about that? Do you need pills? Is it, like, a headache hurt?” 

Slowly, Dan shook his head. “No. It just… kind’a hurts.” 

“Okay. Let’s figure that out later. What else? What do you think you need?” 

Dan shrugged again. God, he was being so /unhelpful/ and he bloody fucking hated that he was doing this to Phil. Phil didn’t deserve to be dragged through the raging hell that was Dan’s mind. 

“Water, maybe? Something to eat? When did you eat last?” Phil said softly, looking over to Dan. “Probably not any time recently. You never touched that pasta from the other day, no?” Dan, in response, shook his head, not to Phil’s surprise in the least. “Alright, uh, I don’t actually know where that went? Can I message Marianne and see where she left it?” 

Dan shook his head. 

“Why not?” Phil asked, reaching a hand out to Dan’s leg. 

He seemed like he was trembling. “Are you cold? Do you need blankets?” 

“No, I just..” Dan started, sighing softly. “I really would rather not have everybody /know/.”

Phil blankly stared at Dan as he spoke. “People are around to help you, Dan. You’re not alone in this, right? I’m just going to ask her where it went, that’s all, is that fine?” 

Dan considered it — or at least seemed to have — and nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll be a minute.” 

Dan knew how he was acting, knew he was practically being babied by his boyfriend who was likely nervous to treat him wrong, and for good reason, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, regardless of how unhealthy it was. Sometimes you just /need/ someone to do it for you, someone to be there when you’re not there yourself, because Dan knows he sure as hell wouldn’t do anything for himself right now. 

Within just a few minutes, Marianne had responded to Phil’s message. “She says it’s probably in the fridge on the bus still. Do you want me to go get it?” 

“Not really.” 

“Dan, you need to eat..” Phil’s mind raced nervously. He could ask Marianne to get it and explain why — she’d be fine with doing it, he was sure — but did he want to disrespect Dan’s wishes and tell her what’s happening without his approval? “I really need you to eat something. I can tell her and she can go get it for you? We don’t have anything in here.” 

Somewhere in the back of Dan’s head he knew he needed to eat, especially something with calories considering he most definitely hasn’t been consuming enough of those the past couple days. That thought was trampled by the more illogical one, yelling at Dan that ignoring everything would fix it. “Don’t tell her, please..”

Right, sure, Dan could be very stubborn during these episodes, but he was never usually this bad. “Help me out /please/, Dan, you need to eat and I need to get something here. Either I have to go or I tell someone so I can stay with you. Those are your options right now, unless you want to come and get it with me.” 

None of those options sounded even mildly preferable — especially getting up and leaving the room — aside from crawling into the bed that seemed so incredibly inviting, and he hadn’t even been presented with that option, so Dan was completely out of luck. “Don’t leave- please, I..I can’t do it.” 

Phil glanced from Dan to his phone and back up again, unsure of what to do. “Alright, I’m messaging her and getting her to bring it up here. I’m sorry.” 

Dan’s heart raced faster than the string of negative thoughts in his head at the idea of Marianne finding out. She was very compassionate and understanding, but did he really want her knowing he was going through /this/? He was supposed to be having the time of his /life/ right now, he was in his /prime/! Why did he have to be this way? 

“She’ll be here in a few minutes. Can we get you up and get water? You should drink something too.” 

Phil stood up from the edge of the bed and held out his hand to Dan to offer to help him stand up. Dan didn’t- or rather, /couldn’t/ grab it. Eventually leaning down and grabbing Dan’s hand himself, Phil gently encouraged him to get up and follow. 

It was an ordeal, to say the least (not like Phil minded), but Phil eventually managed to get Dan up and moving across the hotel room. Dan’s eyes seemed blurry and colour seemed genuinely unattainable, but he was /moving/ and Phil was relentlessly complimenting him for his hard work, he was telling him how proud he was, and that in itself brought a small smile to Dan’s face. 

Maybe he /could/ do something right.

Sure, in the back of his mind, he knew most couples didn’t have to do this and most adults didn’t need to be treated this way, but… 

He was different; it was a start. 

They got to the counter and Phil filled up a cup of tap water for Dan to drink. His lips were chapped like no others, his face was rapidly paling and Phil was kind of surprised how much strength he seemed to have despite the substantial lack of nutrients the past couple days. 

Dan took the glass and brought it up to his lips. Despite having hardly any water the past few days, it didn’t seem to taste very nice. It was lukewarm and frankly, Dan hated tap water at the best of times.

But, he still drank the majority of the cup because he knew how much it’d mean to Phil if he actually looked like he was putting effort into bettering himself, even if he wasn’t really — at least, even if he didn’t feel like it. Phil was one of the only things keeping him going at this point. 

The two men stood in silence, Dan hunched over the countertop, the small, plastic cup clutched in his hand, until there was a soft knock at the door, followed by a key being swiped and the former being opened slowly. “Dan? Phil?” 

Dan recognized the woman’s voice as soon as he heard her speak, mentally sighing. Physically, Dan didn’t move a muscle. 

“We’re in here,” Phil called out, breaking the otherwise silence that was heavy between the two of them. “Did you bring the food?”

“Course I brought it,” Marianne said softly, peeking around the corner. Her heart was heavy for the boys - Dan in particular, obviously. She’d never experienced episodes like he has, but she was pretty close with him and has been for a long time. She knew how low he could get. “Is he gonna eat it?”

Phil turned to Marianne, giving her a small, albeit a bit sad smile. “I hope so.”

Dan bit down on his lip, lifting his head slightly. The light that flooded into his eyes was a lot to take in after previously having his eyes shut for so long. He briefly wondered how he’d keep food like this down. 

Marianne walked over to Dan slowly so she didn’t overwhelm him. “How are you doing, love?” 

Groaning faintly, Dan shrugged. “I’ve been better,” he murmured, looking up to her, trying his best at a smile. He didn’t know how his attempted smile had come across, if it even had at all. Marianne’s heart wrenched at the sight. 

“I know,” she nodded, looking back at Phil. “At least there’s no show tonight, you can get some rest. Do you guys want me to go and leave you alone?” 

Shrugging, Phil sighed. “Do you want her to go or stay here for a bit?” 

“I think I’ll leave the two of you alone for a while,” she said shortly, giving Dan another half-smile. “Looks like you guys could use some downtime. I’ll come check up later if you want?” 

“That’d be great, yeah, thank you so much for bringing this,” Phil smiled at Marianne, shuffling over to her and giving her a halfhearted hug. “I- /we/ really appreciate it.” 

“Anything for him, yeah?” 

Phil hummed in response. “Yeah, definitely. Have a good night.” 

Marianne stood in the doorway of the hotel, waving the two of them off. “You too. Feel better, Dan.” 

Dan knew he needed more than just feel better wishes to even /feel/ again, nevermind feel /better/, but it was appreciated nonetheless. 

Silently, Phil slipped the familiar box out of the plastic bag and opened it, staring down at the cheesy carbs. The scent alone made Phil mildly nauseous (and he knew it’d get worse as it got heated up) but Dan needed it. He shuffled back to the kitchen and opened the microwave, setting the styrofoam container on the glass plate and shutting the door. He contemplated the time to put it in for briefly, but pressed a minute in and turned it on.

“Didn’t come with a fork,” Phil said, an edge of a smile in his voice, as if trying to make the situation sound better than it was. Even he couldn’t fool himself if he tried. “I don’t know what to use.” 

“I’m not really hungry anyway,” said Dan, looking up at Phil. Phil seemed desperate. “Fingers? I don’t know.” 

Phil sighed. 

Everything seemed hopeless.  
—  
It wasn’t. In fact, the next morning when Dan woke up, he didn’t feel...great, obviously, but he /didn’t/ feel like yesterday, which was the good part. His bones and muscles ached like hell, as did his heart, but it felt...better. At least he /felt/ again! He felt...clearer, even. Not by a lot, but a small margin of goodness was good enough — God, /anything/ was good enough at this point. 

Phil was lying next to him, his chest rhythmically rising and falling every few seconds. Dan maneuvered himself so he was laying against Phil’s chest as to hear his heartbeat. It woke Phil up just enough for him to realize what Dan was doing, emitting just a small hum to let Dan know he appreciated what was happening. Through Phil’s half-conscious, sleep-filled mind, he knew deep down that today would be better. 

So, he brought an arm up to Dan’s hair and tangled his fingers in it, gently massaging as he went along. He just wanted Dan to be alright and frankly, he knew this was helping, at least a bit, or else Dan would’ve probably groaned or moved away. 

He didn’t. Instead, he simply let out soft sighs of contentedness and nuzzled further into Phil’s warm chest, sort of wanting this to last forever and even longer if it could. How did Dan get so lucky as to have someone who put up with everything he needed? He couldn’t imagine anybody but Phil caring even half as much as he did. 

Although if Dan really had to thank anybody, it’d probably have to be himself just as much as Phil. 

God, how brave was he? Maybe he didn’t yet realize it, but he just got through one of the worst bouts of depression he’s ever been through, and it /had/ to have been at least a little bit thanks to himself. Of course Phil helped, he could never take all of the credit, but like Phil said, he was his only real saviour. Fuck, Phil was so right. 

Like always. 

Dan would most definitely deny that later. 

“We have a show tonight, y’know, we can’t stay this way forever,” Phil muttered sleepily. “You think you can do it?” 

Dan pushed all of his continuously raging thoughts aside as he nodded against Phil’s chest, a small smile spreading across his face, consciously allowing his mind to settle into pure, quiet bliss for the first time in days.

Yeah, /hell/ yeah, he could do it. If he could get through the lowest of the lows, he could get through this one mere show. “Uh huh, f’real this time,” mumbled Dan, “but we’re not worrying ‘bout that now. Now, we sleep.”


End file.
